


Between Reality and a Nightmare

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2494388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened to Napoleon as a child and it couldn't possibly have been real.  Yet, who's to say that the creatures from nightmares don't really exist and we spend our lives trying to convince ourselves otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Reality and a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeetheT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeetheT/gifts).



_I really like it when a bad dream doesn't scare you... it inspires you instead._

_Fwah Storm_  
  


 

Night was closing in and there was nothing more they could hope to accomplish. With a few quiet words, Illya started a fire from the wood Napoleon gathered on their trek back to the cave.

“So what do we have left?” Napoleon’s question was hopeful, but resigned.  At this point, their MCE rations were depleted to the point of having nothing left save chopped ham and eggs and something wishfully called Chicken with noodles in broth.  Illya glanced up at Napoleon before returning to rummaging through the two remaining ration boxes.  Napoleon sighed long and hard, before adding,  “With all the work we did saving them from THRUSH’s grasp, you’d think the hostages could have left us something more palatable than meat chunks with beans or chicken loaf before taking off.”  He ran his fingers through his hair, thick with sweat and forest detritus.

He picked up a can and squinted at the label. “I’ll let you have my canned peaches in exchange for your fruitcake.”  At the silence, Illya dropped the packet back into the box and returned his attention to the fire.  “Napoleon, I always labored under the impression that you were the optimist in our partnership.” 

“That was before I spent the last week sitting in a cave with you and eating indescribable things with a wooden fork.” Napoleon walked to the mouth of the cave to watch the sun surrender to the horizon.  Even now a few stars peeked out of the royal blue velvet of the night.  He barely repressed a shudder and jumped when Illya placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What is going on, Napoleon?” Illya squeezed his shoulder and after a moment let his hand drop. Napoleon turned back into the cave to crouch by the fire.

“I don’t know what you mean.” The protest sounded lame even to him.

“It’s not the MCE rations or the cave. You have been distracted since you arrived here.”  Illya watched him squat down and pick up a can. 

“Mmm, crackers and two chocolate disks.”

“Napoleon?”

He sighed. “Yes, Illya.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I do.”

“Then help me understand the base cause of your distress. Perhaps I can do something.”

“Sadly, you can’t. I wish you could.”

“Neither of us will have any chance of success without information.”

“All right, pull up a rock and I’ll tell you.”

Illya nodded and dragged the ration box closer. He pulled out a pack blindly and tossed it to Napoleon.  “Eat.  It’ll be better with food.”

“Agreed.” Napoleon waggled the package at him.  “But this isn’t food.  It’s… oh, God, Beanie Weanies.”  He made a face as he searched his pockets for his P-38 can opener.

“I got… Beef in spiced sauce…” Without any glee, Illya opened the can, then tossed his opener to Napoleon.  “I don’t know how you manage to lose those things.  He began to eat.  “Not bad,” he mumbled, but then made a face.  “As long as you don’t swallow.”

“Wonderful.” Napoleon wrinkled his nose at his now open can.  He set the P-38 aside and dipped his wooden fork into the contents.  “When I get back to New York, I’m getting the best steak Del Monaco’s has to offer.”

“Good plan. I’ll be right behind you.”  Illya found his hardtack biscuit and cheese spread and started to work on it.  “You still haven’t said what’s going on.”

“Well, it’s not the sort of thing a man likes to admit." Napoleon stared at a spot over Illya’s right shoulder.  There was noting there, for now.  “Okay, here goes nothing.  Do you believe in monsters?”

Illya sucked his fork for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “You mean like Big Foot or the Lock ness Monster?  Not really, although anything is possible.”

“I mean like the monster that lived in your closet or under your bed.”

“We had no closets growing up and our mattress was on the floor for the most part. My siblings were confirmed bed bouncers.  After repairing the frame a few times, Papa gave up.”  Illya scraped down his can.  “But, no, those I don’t believe in.”

“I do. I saw one.”

“Someone hiding in your closet?”

“No, he was standing outside, looking in at my sister and me.”

“That’s not a monster, Napoleon, that’s a peeping Tom. Did you tell your parents?”

“What I saw wasn’t human, Illya. It was man shaped right enough, but its skin was leathery like a lizard and it had fangs and bulging eyes.”

Illya stopped and studied his partner. “You are serious.”

“I saw him just as I’m seeing you.” Napoleon held his can out to Illya and after a moment, Illya accepted it.  Napoleon poured himself some coffee instead.  “We were on vacation at my grandmother’s place.  The house was full, so my grandfather rigged a bed for me in the back room.  It was like a long hall with these small windows that ran the length and a door at the end.”  The fire popped and Napoleon started, catching himself as he reached for his weapon.

“It’s okay, Napoleon. It’s just us.”  The shadows were growing longer as night crept in.  The fire cast dancing silhouettes on the walls of the cave.

“Anyhow, I was sitting on the end of my bed. I didn’t want to go to bed, even though Mom and Grandma told me to.  I looked up and there it was watching me through a window.  I heard it say, “Go to bed.”

“Wait, you were inside and it was outside.”

“Yes, but I could hear it as plain as day. I didn’t want to go to sleep, so I said no and it started to run, heading for the door.  I could see it passing by the windows.”

“What did you do?” There was something odd to Illya’s voice.

“I dove under the covers and didn’t come out until morning. Part of me says that I fell asleep and dreamt the whole thing.  Another part of me swears that it was real.”  Napoleon sipped the coffee and sighed deeply.  “I’ll take first watch if you want.  I’m not very tired.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Really, after the story, I’m not inclined. We can never tell when THRUSH might try to retake their satrapy.  What do you think?”

“That next time you ssshouldn’t argue with me,” the creature hissed softly.

Napoleon dropped the cup. “No, no, no!  It’s not possible.  Illya!”

“It’s only you and me here.” The fangs caught a glint from the fire and a finger pointed at him.  “Go to sleep!”

“No! I’m not afraid of you.  I’m not a child any longer,” Napoleon protested, reaching for his weapon.

In a blur of motion, the creature moved and Napoleon leaned back, but it was not in time to avoid the claw. It sliced his cheek open as easily as a scalpel.  Napoleon could feel blood, warm against his skin, well up.

“You should be. Go to sleep NOW.”

Napoleon grabbed his bed roll and pulled it over him, shivering from fear. “Go away.  Go away,” he whispered softly.

“I just asked you if you wanted me to bank the fire before we went to sleep.”

The calmness of the voice made Napoleon sit up and he looked around the cave, then at his very confused partner.  

“Are you okay, Napoleon?” Illya placed a cool hand on his forehead.  “You look flushed.”

“I’m okay, just a little bushed.” He looked past Illya’s right shoulder, but there was nothing there.  Illya turned and looked as well.

“Okay. You wake me up if you need anything.”

Napoleon settled back down and watched Illya climb into his own bedroll. He rolled over, his back to the cave entrance and smiled as Illya settled against him.

“Night, Partner. Sleep well.”

“No problem with that. I could sleep through a war,” Illya murmured.  “Oh, and you might want to be careful.”

“Why’s that?”

“It looks like you scratched yourself with the can opener. It pays to be careful this far from civilization.”  Illya sighed, blissfully ignorant of the creature that crouched just outside the cave’s entrance, all prepared to deal with little boys who didn’t want to go to sleep.  


_Your nightmares follow you like a shadow, forever._

_Aleksandar Hemon – The Lazarus Project_  


 


End file.
